


I hate you, Sakusa Kiyoomi

by sakuatsulifestyle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda AU, Kinda?, M/M, i guess, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:21:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuatsulifestyle/pseuds/sakuatsulifestyle
Summary: Miya Atsumu hated Sakusa Kiyoomi. He really did. What was there to like about an arrogant, pretentious, clean freak with scary bendable wrists, one of the meanest spikes Atsumu had ever seen, those two insufferably perfect moles right above his eye, and his dark, very soft (not that Atsumu would know anything about that) hair, and— fuck.Aka, two volleyball mfs fight instead of actually expressing their feelings !!~Mostly Atsumu's perspective, with sprinkles of Sakusa
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, kind of - Relationship, sakuatsu - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	I hate you, Sakusa Kiyoomi

“ _Itachiyama takes the win! _”  
The announcer’s voice carried across the stadium, cheers erupted from the stands, and the team across the net leapt off their feet, cheeks split in smiles. Except for one boy.  
Sakusa Kiyoomi.  
He looked pleased enough with himself regardless as the team pulled him into a group hug, which he quickly squirmed his way out of before sauntering over to the net.  
“Miya.” He spoke, making Atsumu straighten his back.  
“Omi-kun.” He responded mockingly.  
Sakusa wasn’t affected by the longstanding nickname. He spoke again. “That last set was shit. Even I could tell you were panicked. You never do that. Haven’t you been in a national final before?”  
Atsumu grit his teeth. They'd never won one. And never been two points away in the final set.  
He wanted to open his mouth in retort, but wasn’t sure what to say, so he rolled his eyes and turned, putting as much distance between himself and the other team as he could.  
_I hate you _, Sakusa Kiyoomi, he thought as they left the venue on the bus back to Hyogo. I’m going to crush you one day. I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.____

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It was a frustratingly warm end to the summer as Atsumu stepped into the gym for one of their last practices before school started up again. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, and— what the fuck?  
_What the actual fuck? _  
The tall, dark head turned to fully face him, and Atsumu felt like his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.  
“ _You. _” He felt the word fly out of his mouth like a ball of fire. “What are _you _doing here?”  
“Come on now,” Sakusa’s words were as even as his face— the half Atsumu could actually see, anyway. “That’s no way to talk to your new teammate.”  
Atsumu laughed loudly. “Funny.”  
“No joke, Miya.”  
“Okay,” Atsumu turned to the rest of the team. “Will somebody tell me what’s goin’ on here?”  
Kita stepped forward. “Sakusa isn’t joking. His family just moved here, and he’s officially our newest teammate.” ______

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Sakusa had to fight to contain a smile as he watched Atsumu, who looked like he was experiencing the first effects of an aneurysm, sputter in front of his captain.  
“Teammate? What— ya can’t be serious! We hate him.”  
A few of the other members of Inarizaki shifted uncomfortably.  
“He was our rival.” Kita agreed. “But we didn’t hate him. And now he’s a part of this team, so any previous feelings of animosity should be put away.”  
“I did!” Atsumu cried. “Do! I _do _hate him! He’s insufferable! You guys are seriously telling me ya don’t— ah!”  
Osamu pulled at his brother’s ear. “Shut up, Tsumu.”  
“Ow! You should shut up, Samu.” He pushed Osamu, and then they were pulling at each other’s shirts, throwing and kicking each other around the gym.  
“Sorry.” Suna told Sakusa, standing a few feet away to his left. “They are normally like this.” He didn’t look very apologetic though, holding his cellphone out to capture the fight. __

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Atsumu didn’t think he would be able to survive the end of second year and all of third year with Sakusa Kiyoomi. He seemed to hate Atsumu just as much as Atsumu hated him, so maybe if they made each other’s lives hellish enough, Sakusa would fuck off back to the big fancy city he’d come from.  
And as if it wasn’t enough to be on the same team as him, Atsumu ended up in his class too. Doing the math quickly, that meant… approximately ten hours of the day in at least his general vicinity, but a good portion of which would be spent having to actually get along with him during practice. At least over the weekends he would be free, save for the hours they met in the gym, and on Wednesday’s they had a rest day, so he wouldn’t have to see him after school. And, if he was lucky, he might be able to organize his Monday and Saturday weight and cardio training so that they wouldn’t overlap in the same space.  
“Miya.” Sakusa watched him expectantly from the desk next to him. God, how had he let that happen?  
“What?” He snapped.  
Sakusa’s expression changed. “I was asking if you’d done the reading that was assigned last night.”  
Atsumu scoffed. “Course not, we had training.”  
The judgemental way that Sakusa looked at him then made his stomach boil in anger.  
“I guess ya did it all, mr. perfect?” Atsumu retorted.  
“It really wasn’t all that hard if you have time management skills.” Sakusa said.  
Atsumu grit his teeth, thinking of Osamu and Suna in class 3, and all the rest of his friends he’d rather be spending time with instead of being stuck in a class with the one person he least wanted to be around. 

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Soon the day was over, and they headed to practice. Atsumu made sure to pack up as quickly as he could, and all but sprinted to the gym so that he and Sakusa wouldn’t end up walking over together.  
He couldn’t ignore Sakusa during training, but he did his best to ensure that they didn’t fight. There was the occasional quip and retort, of course, but it was going unexpectedly smoothly. He could handle one angsty, prideful, mean player and show Kita that he was captain material.  
“Oi, Miya number 2.” Sakusa addressed Osamu near the end of their practice, talking briefly about one of the plays they had just tried, and Atsumu had to force himself not to be happy that he was Miya number 1.  
Ah, what the hell, it didn’t matter who it was coming from, anyone would be happy to be number one. 

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Wednesday rolled around, and Atsumu was relieved to see Sakusa packing his bag at the end of class. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for everyone to clear out so that he and whoever was assigned to clean the class with him that day could get to it, but Sakusa never stood from his desk, and as more and more students left the room, Atsumu began to develop an anxious feeling in his gut.  
“What are ya waiting for?” Atsumu asked Sakusa eventually.  
“I have to stay and clean up today.”  
Atsumu’s brain stopped working. “Huh?”  
“I said I have to stay to clean up.” Sakusa rolled his eyes.  
“ _No _.” Atsumu said. “No, I have to stay and clean up.”  
“I know.” Sakusa said.  
“Then why didn’t ya pick a different day?”  
“Today is the only day we have without club or training! Of course we’d both pick it.”  
Atsumu spluttered, but he couldn’t find a valid argument— he’d had the same thought process, after all. So much for Sakusa free Wednesday afternoons. __

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He swept the floor, avoiding Sakusa with a five foot radius, and trying not to think about how weird the guy was. Seriously, who brought their own mask and gloves to clean the classroom?  
“You missed a spot, Miya.”  
Atsumu grimaced. “Who d’ya think I am, Cinderella?”  
Sakusa huffed. “If you’re not going to do it properly, why are you even here?”  
“Ya know what?” Atsumu dropped the broom. “Good question! If yer so great at everything, why don’t I just let ya do it yerself, huh?”  
“Fine! I don’t need an incompetent cleaning partner like you anyway.” Sakusa grumbled.  
“Fine then!” Atsumu marched over to his desk and grabbed his things, shrugging his jacket and then his backpack on, and then he left the classroom, closing the door just hard enough to let Sakusa know he was pissed. 

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_God _, Sakusa hated Miya Atsumu. His stupid smug face, idiotic hair, and overall arrogant personality were probably all on the list of the exact last things Sakusa would ever like about a person, and yet as much as he hated Miya Atsumu, he couldn’t hate any of those things about him. Because they made him who he was. And as much as Sakusa hated Miya Atsumu, he was also in love with Miya Atsumu.  
That’s why he was here, cleaning the classroom by himself, scrubbing the floor, and desks, and blackboard until they shone, and signing Miya’s name in the damn checklist because the idiot had forgotten to do it himself before he’d had to make a scene and storm out. And if he didn’t put his name in the book, their teachers would think he’d skipped out on his cleaning duty— which he _had _, but regardless.  
Sakusa hated Miya Atsumu. He really did. ____

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_Fuck _.  
Atsumu had forgotten to sign the list before he’d left.  
That was going to get him in some shit. Kita wouldn’t be happy. He’d probably be banned from club activities for a few days and forced to stay later and clean the classroom for the next week or two… but it really wasn’t worth going back. He’d just have to suffer. There was no way he was going to subject himself to Sakusa again right now— _and oh god, Sakusa _. He was going to be so smug about this.  
“Uhharghh!” He pulled at his hair in frustration, pushing his front door open, kicking his shoes off in the foyer, and storming up the stairs, ignoring the stares from Osamu and their mother. ____

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The next morning, Atsumu got dressed, ate breakfast, and waited for Osamu to meet him by the door. They walked to school together, and then split up by the entrance. A frown was practically etched onto his face at the thought of what he’d have to endure today between his punishment and Sakusa— whom dealing with could be considered a form of torture on its own.  
Atsumu approached the teacher’s desk, ready to apologize and beg forgiveness, or at least leniency, but Sakusa had beaten him there.  
_Ugh _, Atsumu rolled his eyes. He was probably getting ratted out right now. Sakusa wasn’t even giving him a chance to apologize or own up on his own.  
“Sir,” he interrupted, refusing to let Sakusa take over the narrative of what had happened the day before. “M’ sorry about yesterday, I—”  
“I told him already, Miya.” Sakusa said. “How you weren’t feeling well, but you basically stayed the whole time anyway so, it doesn’t really matter.”  
Their teacher nodded. “Thank you both for letting me know. Both of your names were on the checklist regardless, so I’ll let it slide. But please let me know if you’re ever feeling unwell again so we can switch your day with someone else.”  
Atsumu blinked a few times in shock, and then he nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”  
He sat down at his desk, Sakusa sliding into his own beside him, and rubbed at his eyes. He was positive he hadn’t put his name on that checklist yesterday. Did that mean that Sakusa had signed it for him? Why would he do that?  
“ _You’re welcome _, by the way.” Came the snide mumble from beside him.  
Ah, Atsumu realized. That was why. He had a leg up on him now. Atsumu was in his debt. He owed Sakusa. And that was not a position he wanted to be in.  
“I didn’t ask for yer help.” Atsumu hissed.  
“I didn’t do it for you.” Sakusa snapped. “Without me, you’d probably be banned from practice. And since I’m not a selfish teammate, I actually wanted you there so that the rest of us could train normally too. You missing isn’t good for the team. I would’ve thought you knew that, since you’re supposed to be some star setter who does what’s best for his teammates, no?”  
“Whatever.” Atsumu put his head on his forearms, staring out the window and trying his hardest to ignore the boy beside him. He wished he was angrier. ____

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“God, Sakusa!” Atsumu yelled. “You’ve gotta be hitting those! That was an easy set!”  
The past few days had been peaceful and uneventful, but their Friday night practice was proving to be making up for that.  
“It was shit.” Sakusa told him with a frown. “Not even where I wanted.”  
“It was where ya _should’ve _wanted it.” Atsumu grumbled. “If you were smart.”  
“Says you.” Sakusa’s lip turned up.  
“Fuck off—!”  
“That’s enough.” Came Kita’s voice from behind him. “Practice is about to end, so I want you two to call it now.”  
Atsumu dropped the ball he was holding, frustrated. Sakusa was making him miss out on practice time now? Making him look bad in front of his captain, and team?  
He trudged his way to the club room with Sakusa behind him, and they silently began gathering their things. He made a point to be slow of it, wishing Sakusa would just leave already, but huffed when he noticed Sakusa standing by the door on his phone.  
“Ya waiting for me or somethin’?”  
“Why do you hate me so much?” Came the immediate reply.  
The way Sakusa looked at him made it clear he was genuinely confused, and it only pissed Atsumu off more.  
“Nationals last year?” He tried, but Sakusa’s face was blank, and Atsumu laughed dryly. “Course ya wouldn’t remember. We played you in the finals. But I guess we were just some lowly commoners for ya to look down on—”  
“Of course I remember, dumbass.” Sakusa snapped. “But I don’t… you’re that sore of a loser then?”  
“Jesus!” Atsumu threw his hands up. “It wasn’t about losing! Ya— ya don’t even remember what ya said to me?”  
Sakusa frowned. “We talked by the net after. I gave you advice on your set—”  
“Advice.” Atsumu deadpanned incredulously. “Telling me I was a shit setter who looked like he’d never been in a national final was yer way of giving me advice?”  
Sakusa opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I was _trying _to help you, Miya—”  
“Well thanks, but I didn’t ask for that.” Atsumu shoved his things from his cubby into his bag. “I didn’t need yer help then, I don’t need it now, and I never will.”  
“Fine!” Sakusa snapped. “Likewise!” He turned to leave the room, but Atsumu was determined to get the angry storm out.  
He shoved Sakusa aside with his shoulder, reaching for the door handle, but heard Sakusa squawk indignantly behind him and felt his arm being tugged back.  
“Let go!”  
“You started it!”  
They struggled to get to the door, banging into the lockers and shelves that lined the walls. He reached for the back of Sakusa’s head and pulled— childish, yes, but effective. And huh, Sakusa’s hair was actually _really _soft.  
“Don’t touch my fucking head, Miya!” Sakusa practically shrieked, giving Atsumu a dark sense of satisfaction.  
Towels fell to the floor and extra equipment was knocked over, but Atsumu didn’t think of the noise they might be making until the door opened in front of his face.  
Kita took in the messy clubroom and their disheveled appearance— one of Atsumu’s hands was still wound in Sakusa’s hair, while the other boy was half on his back, one arm attempting to pull Atsumu’s off of his head.  
“Meet me back in the gym in five minutes.”  
The door closed, and Atsumu and Sakusa slowly disentangled themselves.  
“Now you’ve got us in trouble with Kita.” Atsumu grumbled.  
Sakusa didn’t grant him a response, stalking through the door and leaving Atsumu to scramble out after him.  
“You’ll be doing two hundred passing drills,” Kita told them once they reached the court where the rest of the team stood. “And if the ball hits the floor, you’re starting over. Then clean up— the rest of us are leaving now. If I find out you left early…”  
Atsumu and Sakusa nodded in unison, watching as their teammates emptied from the gym. Aran sent a few concerned— or were they judgemental? Atsumu could never tell— glances back at them as he followed Kita out, while Osamu and Suna gave him two sarcastic waves as they left together, and Atsumu growled in frustration.  
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They dropped the ball thrice in the first eight minutes— Atsumu was watching the clock— and yelled at each other at least twice as many times.  
But to his surprise, Sakusa seemed to tire of it quickly, and Atsumu begrudgingly followed his lead, tuning down the screaming and snide commentary in favour of focusing on their passes.  
“Why do you keep calling me Omi-kun?” Sakusa asked him eventually. It was the first they’d spoken in ten minutes.  
“Uh,” Atsumu watched the ball coming towards him. “To annoy ya, I guess.”  
Sakusa let out a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Atsumu dropped the ball when it came back to him.  
“Damn…” He whined.  
“ _Nice _.” Sakusa groaned, and he started them up again.  
Atsumu chose to take the high road for once, and he ignored the comment.  
“So, why’d ya come to Hyogo anyway, Omi-kun?” He asked instead. “To curse me?”  
“Actually,” Sakusa said slowly. “My parents opened a satellite clinic out here, so they were considering moving for a year or two to start it up and I… said it would be a good idea, and that I wanted to go.”  
“You did?” Atsumu asked incredulously. “Ya wanted to move out of yer precious, prissy, doctor salary Tokyo home to come here?”  
“For volleyball.” Sakusa informed him with a roll of his eyes.  
“I mean, s’not like ya didn’t have a national winning team…”  
“I wanted to play with you.” Sakusa said, as if it were nothing. As if it didn’t just flip Atsumu’s entire world upside down. As if it hadn’t just made him reconsider everything he thought he knew about Sakusa Kiyoomi.  
“Okay, haha.” He said instead of any of that.  
“Haha.” Sakusa repeated in deadpan, almost a question.  
They continued their passing drill, and Atsumu finally counted 200, but he didn’t say anything, and they didn’t stop.  
He let out a breath through his nose. “I guess you’re not as bad to play with as I always thought.”  
“You’re not so bad yourself, Miya.” Sakusa informed him, and then he caught the ball. “I think we passed 200.”  
“Yeah.” Atsumu agreed.  
They got to cleaning quietly, and closed up the equipment room. Atsumu shouldered his bag by the door to the gym that led directly outside, and Sakusa straightened up beside him.  
“Well, I’ll see ya tomorrow, Omi-Omi.”  
“See you…” Sakusa said, and Atsumu hesitated with one foot out the door, feeling like there was something more to be said.  
And then neither of them had a chance to say it, because suddenly Sakusa was in his face, right in front of him, entirely too close, and his hand was reaching for the edge of Atsumu’s jacket.  
Atsumu stepped back, putting himself fully outside. “Wha… what’re ya doing, Omi-kun?”  
Sakusa stepped backwards. “I— nothing.” He looked mortified, but he quickly composed himself. “I’m sorry, Atsumu. See you tomorrow.”  
And then he was pushing his way out the door and moving quickly down the sidewalk.  
“See ya tomorrow.” Atsumu mumbled.  
But he didn’t. __

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Sakusa didn’t show at school the next three days in a row, calling in sick, and he even missed their Thursday and Friday practices, which was very unlike him. Actually, getting sick at all was unlike him, and Atsumu had a feeling there was something else going on. He had a feeling he knew exactly what it was about too.  
When Sakusa wasn’t at their practice on Saturday either, he decided to bring it up.  
“Anyone heard from Omi recently?”  
A chorus of “no’s” from the team followed, except for Kita, who simply nodded.  
“I saw him in the gym before hours one morning.” He said. “I assumed he must have been feeling better, but he said he wasn’t, and that he was training separately and disinfecting the equipment so as not to get us sick. And then, he said his family is thinking about going back to Tokyo.”  
“What?” Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows. “That kinda came out of nowhere.”  
“I thought so too.” Kita said. “Did he say anything to you?”  
“Huh?” Atsumu crossed his arms. “Why would he have said anything to me?”  
“You’re in the same class.” Kita lifted an eyebrow. “I thought maybe…”  
“Oh.” Atsumu realized. “Right.”  
He thought back to four nights ago, and felt his face heat up. “He didn’t say anything.” 

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Atsumu left his brother and Suna on their walk home, stating that he needed to go to the supermarket, but instead made his way a few blocks south, in the direction of Sakusa’s address, which he’d gotten from Kita. The house was in a nice quiet neighbourhood, and sat in a wide yard, with trees and bushes flanking the sides of it, creating an obvious divide between its inhabitants and their neighbours.  
Atsumu had to laugh— it was exactly the kind of place you’d expect Sakusa to live.  
He made his way up the front steps and knocked, but there was no answer from inside.  
“Hello?” He knocked again.  
Nothing.  
There hadn’t been any cars in the driveway, but Sakusa had to be home, didn’t he?  
Atsumu put his hand on the door handle and leaned forward, trying to see through the opaque glass set in the wood. To his surprise, the front door pushed in under his weight, and he stumbled into the house.  
“What… who leaves their front door unlocked like that?”  
Someone who’d lived in Tokyo would never. Sakusa would especially never. Atsumu knew he would never. But no one seemed to be home.  
He took off his shoes and stepped slowly through the main hall, glancing around and not seeing any signs of life. The home was nice— not warm exactly, but clearly lived in. He reached the bottom of a brown wooden staircase, which must have led up to the rooms.  
“Oi!” Atsumu shouted up the stairs. “Omi-kun! Sakusa! Get down here!”  
He waited at the bottom of the steps, and as he was about to give up— undecided as to whether he should go upstairs or leave— he heard a door open. A shuffling sound came from the hall above him, and he was met with a sight he wasn’t expecting. Sakusa stood at the top of the stairs, a long blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he was wearing… sweatpants? Not that he wasn’t allowed to, but Atsumu had never seen him looking even slightly disheveled outside of practice before now.  
“What’re ya doin’, Omi-Omi? Ya really must be sick. Look at ya. And you left your front door unlocked. That’s fucked up.”  
Sakusa stared at him, expressionless, and Atsumu felt his skin prickle.  
“I had a visitor. He must have forgotten to lock it.”  
“I’ll lock it on my way out.” Atsumu promised.  
“Thanks. There’s a spare key under the mailbox.” Sakusa told him.  
They stood awkwardly at opposite ends of the stairs until Sakusa spoke again.  
“I told my parents I want to go back to Tokyo.”  
“Huh?” Atsumu tilted his head. “Are ya serious? Why’d ya do that?”  
“So you won’t ever have to see me again.”  
Atsumu paused, and then he rolled his eyes when realization set in. “Jesus, ya dramatic bastard. One awkward kiss attempt isn’t gonna ruin yer life. We’ll get past it, I promise ya.”  
Sakusa looked at him doubtfully. “You don’t even want me here.”  
Atsumu froze— because he had no right to deny it based on the way he’d been treating Sakusa and everything he’d said since the boy had arrived— but something inside told him to argue.  
He _didn’t _want Sakusa here, though. It was true, wasn’t it? He didn’t. He didn’t. He didn’t.  
Repeating it somehow wasn’t making it true.  
“Please stay,” Atsumu got out. “Because as much as I hate to admit it, you’re a damn good volleyball player, and I think… we could actually make a pretty good team.”  
Sakusa seemed to ponder his words, and time seemed to stretch endlessly in the quiet of his home and the space of the flight of stairs between them. Then his shoulders slumped. “Okay. And… sorry again, Miya.”  
“Eh.” Atsumu waved a hand in front of his face. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to those kinda come on’s, y’know?”  
The noise Sakusa made in his throat then could only be described as demonic, and he turned and stomped back towards his room. His blanket billowed out behind him like a cape, and Atsumu had to bite back a laugh and a jibe that he looked like some kind of dark warlock, or a vampire returning to his tomb.  
“See you at school on Monday, Omi-Omi!” Atsumu called as he headed for the front door.  
He was only returned a loud slam of the door upstairs. __

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Sakusa could not do this.  
The boy he had a crush on hated him— a fact he hadn’t actually been aware of before coming to Hyogo, which had been completely idiotic, if he really thought about it. Who follows a _crush _to a new hometown, school, and volleyball team? Not that he was a stalker… but it was all starting to sound a little fanatical, and he was completely opposed to any further feeding of Atsumu’s ego. His family had a legitimate reason for moving. He’d just taken his chance. He’d just wanted to know what it felt like to hit a set placed specifically for you by Miya Atsumu. Wanted to know what it felt like to have him smile at you, praise you for a job well done, and maybe— depending on how clean he was at the time— pull you into his arms after a good play.  
But it was all starting to seem more and more like a mistake.  
And then, after _one _kind-of-nice conversation, he’d really tried to kiss him? Humiliating. Completely and absolutely. Sakusa Kiyoomi did not do that shit.  
That was why he’d cut himself off. Just for a few days. But as each day passed, going back was starting to feel more impossible by the second. That was when he found himself at the dinner table with his parents one night telling them—  
“I think I want to go back to Tokyo.”  
His mother looked up from her plate in alarm. “What? Why?”  
Sakusa chewed his next bite slowly before swallowing. “I don’t… like the school here. And I’m homesick.”  
“What about the volleyball team?” His father asked. “Are you finding that alright?”  
Sakusa contemplated. “It’s okay. I get along with most of the players.”  
He didn’t feel like explaining his true reasoning behind wanting to go back. The fact that his main attraction to this prefecture had been a specific setter. A setter who hated his guts. Who’d just rejected him.  
And that he’d made things even more awkward by avoiding him like the plague.  
He’d still found his way into the gym before and after hours to train, until Kita had found him on Thursday and he’d had to make up some awkward excuse. Then on Friday, he’d opted to spend the entire day holed up in his room in a sweatsuit and a blanket. He’d never felt so pitiful.  
At least people seemed to believe the excuse of being sick. No one bothered him.  
Until Saturday. On Saturday, Atsumu had come to his house while his parents were both working the weekend. He’d walked right through the open fucking front door, and yelled at Sakusa to come downstairs.  
Atsumu had walked into his house, and asked him to stay in Hyogo. And who was Sakusa to refuse him?  
His parents were confused by his sudden change of heart, but they didn’t argue much. He doubted they would have moved back anyway— more likely they’d have asked him to tough it out for the rest of the year. ____

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And then Monday came, and Sakusa made the heroic decision to get out of bed.  
He even got dressed, brushed his teeth, washed his face, made breakfast, packed his schoolbag, and then… he stood behind the closed front door.  
_You have to go _, he told himself.  
_I know _, said another voice in his head.  
_Staying home again will only make things even worse _, the first voice said.  
_I know _, repeated the second.  
Okay, deep breath, and then he would open the door. He breathed in. Held it. And then came a knock at the door. The breath fell through his lips, and he reached for the handle and swung the door open.  
“Miya?”  
Atsumu’s smile was accentuated by red tinted cheeks and nose, with a matching hat and scarf sandwiching his face. Sakusa hated himself for the buzz in his stomach.  
“I just wanted to make sure ya were coming today, Omi-Omi!”  
“Duh.”  
“Let’s walk together then.” ________

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Atsumu had been worried the walk would be awkward. He hadn’t been sure whether he should go get Sakusa or not— it’s not like he was his babysitter or something, hell, they were barely even friends. He was especially wary considering the way Suna and Osamu were definitely going to bug him about it. But Atsumu forged his way to Kiyoomi’s house anyway, leaving his brother and their friend to walk to school alone. They’d probably prefer it anyway. Ew.  
But the walk was fine. Sakusa listened to Atsumu talk all he wanted— about school, volleyball, training, and he even had his own input and ideas.  
“Just because that 6’7 Polish setter could do it, doesn’t mean you can.” Sakusa said bluntly.  
“Could’ja let a guy dream at least, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu complained. “B’sides, I got my own way of doing things. Just doesn’t hurt to try to learn what you can.”  
“Mm.” Sakusa agreed. “But everyone’s different. You need to be the best at doing what only you can do. Then every pro team’ll want you.”  
“Psh, they’ll all want me anyway.”  
“Don’t get a big— I mean bigger— head, Miya.”  
“Hah.” Atsumu huffed.  
He kicked at the snow by their feet as they continued to walk.  
“Ya wanna go pro too Omi-Omi?”  
“Yeah. But I have to wait until I’m done university.”  
“University?” Atsumu asked in shock. “Whaddaya need that for?”  
Sakusa rolled his eyes. “I actually plan on a life after volleyball. Besides, my parents want me to get a university education, and our deal was that if I completed my degree, I could go pro with their support. So I’m just planning on graduating as fast as I can.”  
“Huh.” Atsumu said. “That’s pretty impressive, I guess.”  
“You guess…” Sakusa let out a puff of air through his nose. “Thanks. I guess.” 

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The days passed, and Atsumu found himself fighting less and less with Sakusa. They even took to Wednesday afternoons with a sort of fun— and Atsumu now knew more about the properties and purposes of different types of cleaning products than he had ever wished to.  
The best part, though, was that practice was improving. With the two of them trying to work together, Atsumu might have even said that they were playing well. It was still… off, somehow, but they were working on it. And Kita looked happier.  
They found themselves at the all Japan youth training camp before long, and god was Atsumu glad to get to show off what they could do there. If they’d still been fighting, he wouldn’t have gotten to see the shock on everyone else’s faces at the deadly combinations and attacks they’d been practicing, which were, though still far from perfect, scary enough for the opposing team to try to deal with.  
Once the camp ended, they were back at school, making their final preparations with the team before nationals, and Atsumu was _excited _. Ideally he would have had the chance to crush Sakusa on an opposing team, but since he couldn’t, he’d have to take it out on whatever poor souls they ended up playing instead.  
“So,” Osamu started one afternoon in the club room. They were the last two left after practice, Sunarin waiting for them outside.  
“So, what?”  
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Sakusa lately.”  
“We’re in the same class.” Atsumu hesitated, not quite sure where the conversation was going.  
“Y’know, spring nationals are comin' up in just over a month, and the two of ya still haven’t figured out how to play together. Before it was like, ya were both angry. But now…” Osamu looked up as if searching for an answer. “Now, yer like, holding back, or somethin’. Both of ya. But especially you.”  
_Curse Osamu and this twin connection _. He may as well have been a mind reader.  
Holding back, huh? What did that mean?  
They had taken a weird step, he and Sakusa. With whatever had happened that night, and then when Atsumu had extended his hand to some sort of awkward friendship.  
Sure, the two of them had been getting along a lot better lately, and Atsumu wasn’t finding himself disgusted at the thought of playing or studying with him, but he was still Sakusa. They were still… enemies? Sakusa had never apologized for what he’d said at nationals last year, so…  
But he’d obviously changed. They both had. It had really only been three months, and Atsumu was already starting to kind of enjoy being around him. He was smart, a great volleyball player, and actually gave pretty good advice, even if he _was _kind of weird. Plus, he was attractive. Like, he was beautiful, so Atsumu didn’t exactly mind watching him while he was explaining their homework, and he often found himself staring over his shoulder when Sakusa jumped up to spike one of his sets.  
But that didn’t mean anything, did it? He could admit someone was objectively nice to look at, and subsequently enjoy looking at them. And just because he didn’t really mind the way he sometimes caught Sakusa’s gaze lingering on him too didn’t mean that it made him feel any certain type of way.  
“D’ya like Sakusa?” Osamu asked him.  
_Fucking mind reader _.  
“ _What? _” Atsumu nearly screeched, entirely too defensively, making himself cringe. “I mean, no. Why would I? He’s an asshole pretty boy, and I actually _‘the opposite of like him’ _— which is hate him, by the way, Samu— and…” He trailed off upon seeing Osamu’s panicked expression and narrowed eyes, his hand swiping across his neck telling Atsumu to _stop talking _, something he’d never been quite good at. “And he’s standin’ right behind me, isn’t he?”  
Atsumu turned, and in the open door to the clubroom stood Sakusa, volleyball bag in hand.  
“Sorry,” he said, avoiding both of their eyes as he walked quickly past them. “Forgot my water bottle.”  
He grabbed the bottle from one of the shelves, shoved it into his bag, and walked briskly back out of the room, letting the door fall slowly shut behind him.  
“Shit.” Atsumu said, finally breaking out of his trance.  
“Yer a fucking asshole.” Osamu informed him.  
_Like I need you to tell me that _, Atsumu screamed in his head. He stared blankly at the door.  
“Well?” Osamu prodded him. “Are ya gonna go after him or not?”  
“I hate you.” Atsumu frowned at his brother, knowing he was never going to live this down, and then he turned and sprinted through the club room doors.  
Sakusa wasn’t in the hallway anymore, but Atsumu followed it down to the school’s foyer. It was empty too. And there was no one outside, unless Sakusa was already out of sight. Could he have run home?  
But then Atsumu heard a door close in the hallway to his left, and he saw Sakusa coming out of the bathroom.  
“Kiyoomi!” He stepped towards him.  
Sakusa spun on him, and Atsumu blinked, his mouth slightly agape. Sakusa was crying. Sakusa, the one person Atsumu had always assumed to be unbreakable. The person he’d looked up to, and equivalently hated for that same reason, the boy who wasn’t shaken by winning a national title, the same boy who never let anyone in on what he was feeling inside. Sakusa Kiyoomi was crying in the middle of their school hall, and it was Atsumu’s fault.  
“Omi…”  
“I’m sorry, okay?” Sakusa said. “I get that you hate me. I know I’m not a very likeable person— I’m not good at talking to people, because I don’t _like _most people, but I do like you for some reason I can’t understand, and I never _tried _to make you feel bad about yourself.”  
Atsumu was frozen in place with his mouth hanging open helplessly, staring at Sakusa, who had just shown the most emotion Atsumu had ever seen from him. He begged his idiotic self to think of something to say.  
“I don’t hate ya. Really, I don’t.”  
Sakusa looked at him doubtfully, and Atsumu stepped closer.  
“Sure, yer annoyin’ as hell, and you irritate me more than anyone I’ve ever met— maybe even Samu— but I _don’t _hate you. That was a shitty thing of me to say, ‘specially because it’s not even true. It was just mean.”  
He tugged at the hand sanitizer clipped to Sakusa’s bag and spread it over his hands, and then he lifted them slowly to Sakusa’s face. Atsumu took his lack of movement as an OK, and pulled his mask down under his chin, and then wiped at the wet streaks on his cheeks.  
“It wasn’t you that made me feel bad about myself, Omi-Omi. I did that all on my own. I just took it out on ya.”  
Sakusa sniffed. “I’ll admit I’m not very good at being… diplomatic.”  
“You could say that again!” Atsumu guffawed, earning himself a whack on the shoulder.  
He rubbed his arm in silence while they stood side by side.  
“Y’know, most people don’t like me very much either.” He admitted quietly.  
Sakusa blinked at him. “Why not?”  
Atsumu felt a strange warmth spread through him at the question, phrased as though Sakusa might have thought there _wasn’t _anything to dislike about him.  
“I mean,” Sakusa continued, “sure you’re kinda gross and don’t look like you’d have the best sense of personal hygiene, but—”  
“Okay, okay.” Atsumu cringed. The warm feeling was gone. “I’m just a lot for most people. Always have been.” He wrinkled his nose at the awkward vulnerability. “They can’t handle all o’ this… pure attractiveness.” He gestured to himself.  
Sakusa watched him for a couple of seconds, and then he _snorted _, breaking out into quiet laughter that felt _very _offensive to Atsumu.  
“Alright, alright, Omi-Omi. Go on and shut up now.”  
But Sakusa only laughed harder, and Atsumu supposed it was okay. It wasn’t all that bad a sound. ____________________________

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Only Atsumu could make rejecting someone and saying that you hate them behind their back endearing. He had only sunken his claws deeper into Sakusa, and he didn’t even seem to realize it. For once, Sakusa had no plan. No idea how this was going to play out.  
Now wasn’t the time to think about it though. They were playing at the spring tournament the next day.  
Luckily for him, he’d always been good at prioritizing what was most important at the moment. So he followed his usual routine; set up his things in their room, hurried downstairs to eat earlier than anyone else would want to, and then headed straight for the bathroom where he could wash in peace once everyone else was eating.  
Alone with his thoughts, and that was how he liked it. But it didn’t stay that way for long. The door creaked open to his left, and Sakusa felt his spine curl in discomfort.  
“I need—” He turned in his chair to object to the second bathroom goer until he noticed exactly who it was that had entered the room. “Oh.”  
Maybe he could share with Atsumu. He looked away as Atsumu approached, not the type to peek in bathrooms or changerooms, especially not on someone who’d already rejected his advances. That was just in bad taste. He _wanted _to look though. Atsumu was always so bright, and he looked like a greek god with clothes _on _. One could only wonder what he might look like without anything on at all.  
_That’s not something you’ll ever find out _, he reminded himself.  
“I just cleaned this space.” He mumbled when Atsumu neared. “Can you stay two chairs away?”  
Atsumu looked at him like he was crazy. Not that he wasn’t used to it.  
But he did as Kiyoomi asked. “Cleaned the bathroom?”  
“They do need to be cleaned, believe it or not Miya.” He said. “And it’s public.”  
“Right.” Atsumu lifted an eyebrow. “Because that makes it totally normal now.”  
They sat together silently, each busying themselves, and Sakusa wondered what Atsumu was thinking about.  
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” He asked.  
Atsumu paused. “Yeah. You?”  
“Not really.” Sakusa shook his head. A pause, and then, “I’m kind of excited.” He admitted.  
He’d been waiting a long time to play in a real game with Atsumu, and though things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d imagined they would along the way, they were here now. ______

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Atsumu was a little bit confused.  
He’d come to the bathroom half hoping to find Sakusa, half hoping… well, to not.  
What did you say to someone you’d fought with for months, then almost gotten along with, then rejected, then finally befriended, and now… what were they now?  
He found it hard to think of something with Sakusa sitting beside him— wet skin, wet hair, face a little flushed from the heat of the room. And maybe he did want to kiss him. Maybe he was over the anger, and the fighting, and the pretending to hate him.  
Atsumu slipped into the seat right beside Sakusa.  
“Miya, what are you—?”  
“Can ya call me Atsumu?”  
Sakusa’s back straightened just visibly. “Why?”  
“Because…” He slid his chair closer to Sakusa, unable to lift his eyes. He watched his right leg hovering close to Sakusa’s left, where his hand sat, and Atsumu reached his own hand out.  
Pinky first, and Sakusa’s hand didn’t jerk away. He felt the goosebumps that erupted on Sakusa’s skin under his touch, and his confidence increased. He wound his fingers through Kiyoomi’s, who stiffened momentarily before taking his hand as well.  
“Is that okay, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu asked.  
“Obviously.” Sakusa only grumbled.  
They simply sat, hand in hand, and Atsumu eventually lifted his eyes to find Sakusa already staring at him in the mirror.  
“Why are you doing this, Mi— Atsumu?” He caught himself.  
Atsumu cleared his throat. “I guess I realized I like ya, Omi-Omi. Ya just never gave a dense guy like me enough time to figure it out. Yer so sure of yerself, and go right after what’ya want. I thought I was like that too, but I wouldn’t even admit to _myself _what I wanted. ”  
And until that moment, Atsumu hadn’t quite realized what he wanted. But now he knew. He did want Kiyoomi. He wanted him on his team, he wanted him as a friend, and he even wanted to hold his hand.  
“If I tried to kiss you again…” Sakusa started, pulling him out of his head. “Would you hate me?”  
“I’ll never hate you again, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu declared. “Y’know I never really did in the first place. And I especially wouldn’t for somethin’ like that.”  
Sakusa stood. “Then I’ll kiss you at the end of the weekend.” He decided. “ _If _we win.”  
Atsumu felt his jaw drop. “H—huh?”  
And then with a mumble that sounded vaguely like ‘ _you deserve this _’, Sakusa was wrapped in towels and out the door.  
_Asshole _.________

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“ _Inarizaki have taken the final set! _”  
Atsumu didn’t hear whatever was announced next. Multiple arms flew around him, and he could feel his mouth open, but couldn’t hear himself scream.  
_They’d won _.  
“Sakusa— where’s Omi?”  
He broke out of the circle, and there was the same dark head he’s seen on the same court this time last year. But this time it was on his side, and the face under it was just barely smiling at him— but Kiyoomi was smiling. This was 100 times better than beating him.  
Atsumu raced across the floor. “Come here!”  
And Sakusa took a step closer and opened his arms for Atsumu to crash into. Sakusa, who’d just scored their winning point, and Atsumu hadn’t even been the one to set to him, _Osamu _had, but it didn’t matter right then.  
“We won!” Sakusa said, smiling at him when they separated. Atsumu had to remind himself to breathe. “They clearly didn’t see that last play coming.” He was pleased.  
“Aghh…” Maybe it did matter. “I wish I set you that last one.” He groaned.  
“Oh, suck it up.” Sakusa replied. “We made loads of amazing plays. That one isn’t any more important just by virtue of being the last one.”  
The sparkle in Sakusa’s dark eyes was something akin to the blinding brightness of the stars in the sky at night, and something Atsumu wished he could stare at forever.  
“You’ve never been so excited.”  
“It’s more special with you.” Sakusa told him.  
“Well, it doesn’t count for me because I’ve still never beaten ya.” Atsumu huffed. “But… I like this better than fightin’. Playing on the same team is… different.”  
“Better?”  
“I just said better, didn’t I? Now make good on yer promise from the other night.” Atsumu demanded.  
And Kiyoomi did. ______

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“Atsumu!” The banging on his window was starting to become incessant.  
Atsumu opened his eyes and squinted at the light streaming into his room. He yanked on the cord hanging from the blinds next to his bed until they shot up, revealing a pissed off looking Kiyoomi behind the glass. Atsumu grinned. _Cute _.  
“Aw, Omi-Omi.” He yawned. “Ya came to pick me up.”  
“You’re going to miss the third year's graduation.”  
“Huh?” Atsumu sat up suddenly, flipping his comforter down, and fumbled for his phone, pressing the home button to light up the screen. “8:30?”  
“Where’s Osamu?” Sakusa asked.  
Atsumu looked over to his twin’s empty bed and made a face. “He was at Sunarin’s last night. Guess he never came back. Dick.”  
“You really shouldn’t be depending on him to get you up in the morning still.” Sakusa pointed out. “Now hurry up, it’s cold out here.”  
Atsumu ran to shower and then got dressed, finding himself outside the house with a grumbling stomach and Sakusa by his side just ten minutes later.  
“You’re going to freeze with your wet hair.” Sakusa sighed.  
“S’not _that _cold, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu yawned. “S’basically spring.”  
“Hm.” Came the reply, and then Atsumu felt something squeeze over his head.  
A hat.  
“Aw, Omi-kun, I knew ya cared.” Atsumu cooed.  
“As if.” Sakusa said, reaching out to link their hands together. ____

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They were late, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin, but made it in time to see their teammates get their diplomas. Atsumu knew he was being obnoxiously loud, and from the way Kiyoomi was cringing beside him with each shout, he was clearly embarrassed.  
Atsumu ate it up though, and leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, but Kiyoomi’s hand found his face and shoved him away.  
“You’ve never been as nice to me as ya were when we first started dating.” Atsumu grumbled, thinking of the past two months just after nationals.  
Sakusa side eyed him. “That’s because I’ve realized what a loser you actually are behind the suave national level setter facade.”  
“Awe, ya thought I was suave, Omi-kun?”  
“Did you just ignore everything else I said?” Sakusa grimaced judgmentally in his direction, but Atsumu thought he was starting to be able to find the affection behind those glances. 

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“Thank you all for your hard work.” Kita addressed them in the clubroom later that day. “It’s been an honour for me to be a part of this team for the last three years, and to be your captain over the past one. I’m proud of everyone here, and I hope you’ll all continue to come to me for advice if you ever need it.”  
Atsumu cried as he hugged the third years, ending with Kita, who pulled from his bag a folded black shirt inscribed with a number one.  
“This is yours now.” Kita handed him the captain’s shirt. “I trust you.”  
That was enough to make him burst right back into tears. He brought his hand up to wipe at his face while Kita patted his back with an amused smile.  
“Sakusa.” Kita pulled a lanyard out of his pocket, with the clubroom and gym keys attached. “I want you to keep these.”  
Sakusa accepted the keys with only a slight hesitation. “Thank you, Kita-san.”  
“Huh? What was all that about trustin’ me?” Atsumu demanded. “Doesn’t the captain usually get the keys too?”  
“No one here would trust you with that, sorry Tsumu.” Sakusa said. “Besides, I think we all know that if I’d been around longer, I would have taken your spot as captain.”  
Atsumu laughed, a gleam in his eyes to match Sakusa’s. “I hate you, Sakusa Kiyoomi.” 

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_God _, Sakusa loved Miya Atsumu.__

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**Author's Note:**

> This was kinda just a fun thing for me to do since I never leave my house bc I'm scared of covid and i needed smth to occupy my time bc today I actually deep cleaned my bathroom bc I was bored jfc  
> I was really intrigued by the thought of Omi being the one to like fall first/in general and just not knowing how to flirt haha, but I hope he isn't ooc oof  
> Yea so this was done in like a day I got really into it and I originally wanted to make it v short like just a 2k ish thing but then it kinda escaped me bc well, its sakuatsu.  
> ty for reading!


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